


Like looking into the Sun

by ScriptaManent



Series: IwaOi Week 2020 [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: (for half of the fic), Cuddling & Snuggling, IwaOi Week, IwaOi Week 2020 (Haikyuu!!), M/M, Mutual Pining, POV Outsider, Touch-Starved, Touching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:08:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27824287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScriptaManent/pseuds/ScriptaManent
Summary: Oikawa was being a pain, on that day, all high expectations and smiles that didn’t reach his eyes. It didn’t take long for his friends to pick up on the forced cheerfulness, but when it came to knowing what was going through the captain’s mind, there was only one person they could rely on…IwaOi Week 2020, Day 1: Touch + Mutual pining
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru
Series: IwaOi Week 2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2036209
Comments: 14
Kudos: 227
Collections: IwaOi Week 2020





	Like looking into the Sun

The sun was still low in the sky when Hanamaki burst through the doors of the gymnasium. He slipped his bag off his shoulder, panting, and threw his jacket on top of it as he fumbled out of his outdoor shoes. Good thing he had put his sports clothes on before leaving the house because he would have been  _ really _ late, and practise had already started ten minutes ago.

The first thing that struck him on that early morning was that Oikawa didn’t call him out on his behaviour. He barely sent him a glance, and it was so uncharacteristic of him not to jump on the opportunity that for a few seconds Hanamaki remained frozen. Beside him, Matsukawa answered his silent question with a shrug.

In the gym, only their captain’s voice could be heard, loud and clear, as he put his hitters through series and series of spikes without giving them a rest.

“Mad Dog-chan, you’re supposed to score, not to behead the libero,” he said with a sugary sweet smile that gave Hanamaki the creeps. “Kunimi, you’re slacking off. I know you can jump higher than this. Iwa-chan, you call that a serve?” he continued, his voice higher-pitched and even more annoying than usual.

The ace turned to him slowly, a murderous scowl on his face, and Oikawa dodged the cannonball Iwaizumi sent his way at the very last second.

“What’s with him today?” Hanamaki whispered as he jogged to his friend’s side, flicking a wary look at their captain who was now busy pestering a very annoyed-looking Kunimi.

Behind the first year, Kindaichi shifted from one foot to the other, unsure of whether he should intervene.

Iwaizumi didn’t reply immediately. He stared at Oikawa with a focused frown that carved itself deeper into his skin as time passed. Hanamaki couldn’t tell whether it expressed anger, worry or frustration — all he knew was that Iwaizumi stared at his best friend like he was trying to decipher runes in a foreign language.

“No idea,” he eventually admitted, to the other’s bewilderment.

That was probably the weirdest thing that had happened in a while.  _ Iwaizumi _ , not able to read Oikawa?! Even Matsukawa flicked a glance at their vice-captain like he had suddenly grown another head.

Unaware of their concerns, Iwaizumi walked away, shouting at Kunimi not to let Oikawa step on him so easily, and Matsukawa and Hanamaki exchanged another look.

The two hours of practise lasted one long eternity to Hanamaki and he let out a relieved breath when Iwaizumi eventually called it a day and started to pack everything up before class. Oikawa had been even more vicious and demanding than he usually was, a real pain in the ass. Where did all that energy come from so early in the morning? Hanamaki didn’t know, but it sure made him want to bury the captain alive at the back of the gym.

On the other side of the room, Iwaizumi tossed a ball into the caddy. He caught the one Yahaba sent his way mid-air, arranged it with the rest of them and turned around. As he lost himself in thoughts waiting for the next ball, his gaze settled on a familiar back and his eyebrows knitted together.

Hanamaki hadn’t missed the way Iwaizumi had kept sending concerned glances at Oikawa whenever the other wasn’t looking. He had also noticed the stiffness in the setter’s shoulders that contrasted with the usual lightness of his steps.

Oikawa squeezed Yahaba’s shoulder, leading him around as he explained something to him, a casual smile playing on his face. He wasn’t limping, so pain wasn’t the reason for his eerie behaviour, at least. He was probably only being annoying again, that was all.

Hanamaki stopped paying attention and rushed out of the gym before anyone could make him do extra hours he couldn’t afford.

* * *

“You’re pissing me off,” Iwaizumi growled at lunch break, giving a kick to Oikawa’s chair — Matsukawa used the distraction to steal a bunch of chips from Oikawa’s bag and split them between Hanamaki and him under the table. “Stop with that fake smile of yours before I wipe it off your face myself.”

The ace’s eyes glinted cold and dark, looking almost black in the badly lit classroom. There was no trace of tease or amusement on his face. It was rare for him to be this mad, so far from the familiar banter, but it was true that Oikawa had been more insufferable than his usual self.

The setter blinked slowly, innocently, and even Matsukawa cringed at his expression. It was worse than the act he put on every day, a thicker mask than the one the captain wore daily. The lilt in his voice was more pronounced when he replied to his best friend, the cheerfulness so forced that it was almost painful to hear.

Beside Matsukawa, Hanamaki pushed his bento away and let out an irritated sigh. Irritated or preoccupied — Matsukawa was pretty sure it was a mix of both.

He followed his gaze. As always, Oikawa drew all the attention to himself, snatching it like a blanket he wore like a cape. Nonetheless, on that day it didn’t feel right — it didn’t feel natural. Even the lighthearted teasing was missing between the third years. Hanamaki stayed quiet, only throwing one or two lines into the conversation, and Matsukawa studied his friends with the eye of someone who is always analysing people.

Oikawa was more cheerful than usual, yes — he pushed the show further —, but there was something about him that looked smaller, the middle blocker mused, his piercing gaze peeling layer after layer of his captain’s act.

His jaws were tense when he smiled, as if the mask he carefully composed around people was cracking at the edges. He kept his elbows on the table as he spoke, close to his body; only his hands whipped the air, brushing concerns aside.

That was it. The added cheerfulness, the higher-pitched tone of his voice… they drew attention, just the way Oikawa wanted them to, but the setter kept his moves restrained. He occupied less room than he usually did; his movements were less wide, his stance less assured.

He was both showing off and hiding. Maybe he could fool other people, but there was no way his teammates wouldn’t pick up on the problem.

If possible, Oikawa’s mood worsened as time passed. He remained quiet in class, staring at the blackboard without writing anything down — Matsukawa would lend him his notes before the exams, he wasn’t a complete jerk. He may even get something out of it.

When their last class came to an end, a girl lingered in the doorway to ask Oikawa for a few minutes of his time. Matsukawa rolled his eyes at the familiar scene. The middle blocker didn’t pay more attention to it — he was used to the situation, being in the same class as the captain —, and typed a text to Hanamaki on his phone.

“I’m really sorry, I have something very important to do today and I have to go home early,” Oikawa said, his words making his friend freeze on the spot a few rows of tables away. “But another time for sure, Katou-chan!”

The girl’s face took a deep shade of red and she bowed in front of the other, quickly thanking Oikawa before she ran away.

As soon as she turned her back on him, the captain’s face fell into something sad and lonely. He remained still for an instant, staring straight ahead, his shoulders tensed and his back hunched.

“I thought the plan was waiting for Iwaizumi and Hanamaki to be done with their cleaning duty to go home together?” Matsukawa asked, breaking the silence.

Oikawa jumped slightly at the sound of his voice. When he turned around, there was no trace of his previous expression on his face. He presented a carefully studied smile to his friend, and Matsukawa looked back with a deadpan expression.

“Ah, you’re right!” the captain exclaimed in an awfully fake tone. “I had almost forgotten. Come on, Mattsun, hurry up before Iwa-chan blames me for keeping you late!”

“Not my problem,” the other replied.

He stared at Oikawa for a bit longer before he followed him out of the classroom.

* * *

Hanamaki let out a long sigh and slouched on his broom, bumping into Matsukawa for moral and physical support. In the middle of the room, Oikawa was sitting at a desk, his bag against his chest and his forehead resting on the table like he was about to pass away.

Even when he was low, he was still annoying. That didn’t stop his friends from worrying about him.

“If that’s your definition of helping out, maybe look it up again,” Hanamaki nonetheless groaned, crumbling paper into a ball to throw it at the captain’s head.

He hated to see him so still. Another irritated sigh escaped Hanamaki’s lips when Oikawa didn’t react, worry gnawing at his guts like some parasite devouring him from the inside.

“Don’t give us even more work!” Iwaizumi complained, bending over to pick up the paper he threw into the trash bin with pinpoint accuracy.

For a moment, the three of them stared at Oikawa in silence. Iwaizumi had traded his blunt aggressiveness for sheer preoccupation a few hours ago, and it was enough for Hanamaki to feel even worse.

“Are you sick or did you get ditched again?” he asked.

Iwaizumi’s glare was enough to shut him up —  _ Don’t push it, Hanamaki _ —, and Matsukawa nudged him to resume cleaning, pointing at the windows with his chin. Both of them grabbed old clothes and went back to work, leaving Iwaizumi and Oikawa alone behind them.

Silence wasn’t something that suited the duo, Hanamaki first thought as he meticulously removed fingerprints from the glass. He had never seen them be this quiet. However, when he caught their reflections in the glass beside him, doubt seeped into him.

Iwaizumi had moved to sit on the edge of the desk Oikawa was occupying — Iwaizumi’s desk, actually, the setter hadn’t settled just anywhere. From where he was, Hanamaki couldn’t see his expression, but he could easily imagine something calm and sad from the way the ace’s gaze remained on his friend.

Slowly, Iwaizumi lifted his hand to let it rest on top of Oikawa’s head. His thumb caressed the other’s hair in such a tender way that Hanamaki had to look away.

His eyes met Matsukawa’s, bearing the same mix of shock and embarrassment, as if they had walked in on a scene they weren’t supposed to see.

“You could have asked instead of whining like a child all day,” Iwaizumi told his best friend in a whisper, his words not meant for other ears than Oikawa’s.

There was a softness in his voice that made it sound intimate, a melody foreign to Hanamaki in Iwaizumi’s mouth, and yet it was pronounced in a comfortable murmur, like it wasn’t the first time that Iwaizumi used it around Oikawa.

The latter hummed something, leaning into the touch as Iwaizumi kept stroking his hair in silence, his gaze never leaving him. They looked eerily peaceful together, and Hanamaki started when Matsukawa tugged on his sleeve.

He pointed at the door and Hanamaki followed him quickly, leaving the other two alone in the empty classroom.

As soon as they were outside, Matsukawa stretched to release the accumulated tension, side-eyeing his friend. They were way more comfortable out of the school and away from the other two.

Everybody knew Oikawa and Iwaizumi for their banter and for the formidable duo they were on the court. Everybody knew that they had been best friends for as far as they could remember, but it was the first time that the strength of their bond had been laid bare to the other two’s eyes. It wasn’t meant to be exposed; not a secret but a connection that ran so deep that its obviousness almost hurt to look at.

“Are they dating yet?” Hanamaki asked when he could no longer keep the thought to himself.

Matsukawa shrugged but his friend could tell that his mind was following the same path.

“Don’t know, but that was new.”

Hanamaki nodded and silence fell upon them as they lost themselves in thoughts.

It looked brand new to the two of them because it was a scene that usually happened without witnesses. Iwaizumi hadn’t faltered, not even for a second, and Oikawa hadn’t flinched at the touch. He had been seeking it.

Being a spectator of that scene had been such a weird experience, like looking directly into the Sun. Hanamaki knew that he wasn’t meant to see such a thing again, but it filled him with a warmth that made him almost envy his friends.

* * *

It was way later that Oikawa and Iwaizumi made their way home together. The streets were illuminated by a few lampposts clouded with insects attracted by the light. A few stray cats still wandered around, the only living things outdoors. People stayed inside; Oikawa could picture them under the warmth of a blanket, pressed against each other as a random movie they didn’t pay attention to played on TV.

He glanced at Iwaizumi at his side and a pair of forest green eyes briefly looked back. Oikawa’s gaze wandered to the space between them. A frown creased his forehead, small but present, and he cleared his throat.

“Say, Iwa-chan,” the setter prompted, his voice lower than the one he had used all day — his normal one, not the teasing one. “Do you… do you wanna stay over, tonight?”

His expression twitched at the hesitation and he quickly made up for the slip with a smile plastered on his face.

“At last you’re asking instead of just being a brat,” Iwaizumi observed, raising an eyebrow. “I’m impressed.”

Oikawa huffed. He adjusted his bag on his shoulder and glared down at the other as if there were a twenty centimeters difference between them instead of only five.

“Mean. You could have just said no.”

“I didn’t, did I?” Iwaizumi opposed, his bluntness as disarming as always.

Oikawa blinked a few times before the familiar feeling fizzed in his stomach. He hung his head, repressing a grin, and picked up his pace.

* * *

They were laying on Oikawa’s bed, in the familiar safety of his room, remote controls in their hands and focused expressions on their faces. If the two boys’ strategies were in theory the same — smashing all the buttons and praying it worked —, Iwaizumi has always been better than Oikawa at Street Fighter. Which meant Oikawa had been forced to find ways to cheat over the years.

Iwaizumi swiftly dodged the pillow that the other threw to his face. He pressed another combination that he may or may not have looked up on the internet a few weeks ago just so that he could beat Oikawa at his own game, and a fierce grin stretched his lips when the words “ _ Finish him _ ” appeared on the screen.

“Don’t you dare!” the setter hissed between his teeth.

Iwaizumi’s smile widened as he struck the final blow. Immediately, Oikawa let out a barely human howl and dramatically dropped back against the headboard. He stared at the screen, fuming, and bumped into his best friend to lean against him.

“I want revenge,” Oikawa declared, stifling a yawn.

“We’re at ten-zero for me, stop hurting yourself,” Iwaizumi mocked, earning himself an offended glare.

He glanced at the clock on the wall which informed him that three hours had passed and took the remote from the other’s hands to put it out of his reach.

Just at the same moment, padded footsteps came their way from the corridor. Takeru’s head poked from the open door and he waved them goodnight, mumbling a “lame” at his uncle when he spotted the score on the TV screen. He left without another word, and Oikawa complained about the way his sister was raising her son. He didn’t move from his position the whole time, his body weighing more and more upon Iwaizumi as minutes passed.

According to the clock, it took a total of eight minutes and nineteen seconds for the ace to give in. He let out a sigh and made himself more comfortable on the pillows, not paying attention to Oikawa’s protestations as he was dislodged from his spot against Iwaizumi.

When he considered that his backbone wouldn’t snap in the upcoming minutes, the spiker looked at Oikawa, meeting a distrustful stare.

“You’ve been a pain in the ass the whole day. Don’t give me that face when I finally comply or I’m going back home,” Iwaizumi threatened, opening his arms and trying to keep a straight face.

The look on Oikawa’s face at that moment was worth every single minute of that long day. It was a mix of realisation, gratefulness, and something else that Iwaizumi was almost afraid to name.

Hesitantly, almost shyly, Oikawa settled on the bed beside his best friend. He averted his eyes as he rested his head on Iwaizumi’s chest, his silence louder than his forced cheerfulness. He passed an arm around the spiker, his fingers curled into a fist he was too tense to fully let weight on Iwaizumi, and the latter blew an annoyed sigh.

He grabbed Oikawa by the waist without further ado and moved him so that he lay on top of him. Oikawa froze, as expected, and Iwaizumi resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

They were past the stupid embarrassment. They had known each other for all of their lives; nothing could stand between them, not even literally.

He placed his hands flat on Oikawa’s back and waited for him to relax. Eventually, the setter melted against him, his weight both crushing and comforting. He adjusted his position, his ear right on top of Iwaizumi’s heart and his hands finding their place at his sides, their legs tangled together.

He had been such a pain the whole day, but Iwaizumi was familiar with his behaviour, by now. Oikawa always acted this way whenever he needed a physical presence against him. It wasn’t very often that he was touch-starved, but it was usually pretty violent in the way it manifested. And of course this idiot never said it explicitly, Iwaizumi always had to make assumptions.

It was in the way his voice rose, higher and louder, and in the way his body betrayed his insecurities more than usual. It was in the way he seeked company and pushed people away at once.

Iwaizumi let his hand slide down Oikawa’s back tenderly, slipping under his shirt to settle right above his hips, grounding and protective and a testimony of all the things left unspoken between them.

His free hand traced patterns on the other’s back, lines and drawings and words that he wondered whether Oikawa could decipher. He didn’t get an answer but the other held him tighter as he took a deep breath, seconds away from falling asleep.

Anyone walking in on them would have thought they were dating, and with Oikawa in his arms and falling asleep to the sound of his heartbeat, Iwaizumi could admit that he wouldn’t have minded.

Just as his mind lingered on the thought, someone walked by, only the flash of a silhouette appearing in the door frame for a fraction of second. Oikawa’s mom glanced at them on her way to her room. Her eyes met Iwaizumi’s and a genuine smile settled on her lips, gentle and knowing.

Iwaizumi’s face grew hotter but he didn’t move nor did he flinch. He smiled back, small and sheepish, as if sharing a secret he didn’t mind exposing.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading this! I'll be back for Days 2 and 3 of Iwaoi week!
> 
> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/AngstWeaver) | [Other Haikyuu fics](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScriptaManent/works?fandom_id=758208) (scroll for more Iwaoi content!)


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